Misadventures
by littlehan-solo22
Summary: Chloe and her best (maybe only) friend, Short Round, are stuck in a dumb and boring academy with dumb and boring students, who live no lives of adventurous deeds and treasure. However, they begin to realize that their boss and friend, Indiana Jones, may have just given them their biggest adventure yet, filled with action, gems, artifacts, and evil teachers... Feelings, maybe?
1. Chapter 1

**heyo people~ littlehan-solo22 here and ready 2 write! lol just watched the movies they r frickin' AWESOME and my friend decided 2 call me and "convince" *cough force cough* me 2 write a story about it so this is it but it will be different. of course it's different all my stories r different than the actual fan fic genre set out 4 this crap but let's go so my friend doesn't kill me. also it's a stress reliever 4 me :)))**

Chapter 1

"Shorty!" I hiss, "what exactly are you doing?"

"Shh," is his only reply. "Hand me the screw.'' I pass it to him with a huge level of reluctance and watch as my best (possibly only) friend, Short Round, carefully insert the screw into the door keyhole.

"Shorty!" I mutter again. "Remind me again why we're doing this. Boss said to not get in trouble!" Boss being the legendary and amazing Indiana Jones, who had left me and Shorty here about 2 years ago for us to get a good education.

"I know what Dr. Jones said!" he whispers quietly, jiggling the screw into the keyhole again, twisting it around a few times. "But we gotta see this! New artifacts came just yesterday!"

"We can just see them tomorrow!" I grumble. "13-year old children shouldn't be wandering around the academy at midnight." _  
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"Ah, but we're not just any children," Shorty replies smugly. "We're explorers!" And with that, he gives the screw one last jig before a soft _click _sound meets my ears. He grins at me and very slowly, opens the door.

I adjust my black DC cap backwards, and slowly, albeit reluctantly, make my way inside the room, Shorty at my heels. Inside, rows upon rows of fossils, daggers, goblets, and other rare artifacts line the walls, each showing it's amazing old glory.

''Oh my God,'' is all I can say. Shorty nods in agreement.

"It's amazing." I walk down the aisles in a daze of wonder. "All these artifacts in one place. I bet Boss would faint from the sight."

"Hmph," my friend mutters, gazing at a huge gold goblet embedded with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires. "Depends on how rare they are."

"Yeah." I look around quickly, taking in all the sights before I grab Shorty's arm. "Come on, I'm sleepy."

He crosses his arms. "It's only midnight!"

"Exactly," I say, dragging him toward the door. "I need my rest."

"You mean your beauty sleep."

I glare at him at the words "beauty sleep". "Bud, I'm an explorer. Female explorers don't need beauty sleep."

And I forcefully drag him down the empty, sleepy corridors toward the dormitory.

[...]

After a long session of classes, we decide to go outside for a breath of air. All the girls are playing on swings or the hopscotch, while the boys are horsing around and playing tag.

I sigh. "School is so boring."

Shorty nods in agreement. "I miss Dr. Jones. He was _way _more fun than this school."

We sit in silence for a while, then start talking about our old adventures when I spot the boys fiddling with a gun. A pistol. Where on earth did they get one of those?

"Check it out," one of the boys says. "I bet I can fire this thing and hit a bulls-eye with my eyes blindfolded!"

"Yeah!" the others holler. "You can do it, George! You're the best!"

A lot of the girls leave their areas of worship and join the boys, where they start drooping off George, crooning over him about how awesome and how handsome, amazing, and how completely adventurous and brave he is.

"Check it, bud." I point out the pistol. "What are they doing with that kind of thing?"

He shrugs. "Don't know. We're not supposed to have guns."

The boy, George (I should mention he's also the popular guy at the academy), aims the pistol, looks away, and fires. It completely misses the target that his friends set up for him.

I wince. "Man, he sucks."

George fires again. And he hits the target rim.

Shorty nods. "He does suck." He then turns to me. "You gonna show him who's boss?"

"Of course," I mutter, standing up and then helping him up. "I am the boss." And we stride toward the group of boys and girls, who are gawking at George's amazing ability to miss a target.

The boy seems to notice us, and he says, "Well, lookie here. If it ain't the chink and the baguette. What you here for? Sell dumplings?" And the whole group laughs like crazy.

Shorty looks about ready to unleash his karate, and I almost let him, until Boss' words come to me.

_"Look after Shorty for me, Chloe. I don't want him getting hurt by these kids. They can be real nasty when they want to be."_

"Dude," I whisper to him. "No. I'll handle this." And I step forward to meet George's gaze. "We're here for the gun." I raise my hand and open it. "Hand it over."

He laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. "No way! Do you even know how to shoot these?" He waves the pistol in my face. "This is a Smith and Wesson Triple Lock! It's not even on the market! How can you, a baguette, shoot something like this?"

I yawn loudly. "Hmm... Sounds boring." I turn to Shorty. "Bud, how many times have I fired a pistol?"

He counts his fingers. "Uhh... About 56 times."

"How many times have I made a bulls-eye?"

"56 times." George's eyes widen slightly and he stares at me.

"Well..." he stammers. Poor boy. As he talks, I sneakily grab the gun and insert 3 bullets. "I bet you haven't made a bulls-eye with your eyes closed! How about that?!-"

BAM! BAM! BAM!

I open my eyes, pleasantly grin at the shocked boy, and hand the pistol over. "I don't like this one. Feels weird, and it's too heavy." With those amazing words of wisdom, I turn on my heels and stride back, Shorty at my heels.

"Dude," he whispers in a sense of awe. "That was your first time shooting without looking! How'd you do that?"

I pat his shoulder, which is hard to do, since he's 2 inches taller than me. "There's only one reason. Because I'm awesome."

He sighs. "I'm 7 months your senior, and I can barely control a young girl." He adjusts his Yankees cap and looks at me. "And besides, why did Dr. Jones teach you how to use a gun?"

I grin at him. "Because he loves me more than you."

Shorty pouts. "But I've been with him way longer!"

"I know. He must've just sensed it with his adventure senses."

He sighs again. "Those don't even exist."

"I know." I look up at the sky. "I miss him, believe it or not."

"So do I, Chloe." He pats my head, messing up my hat. "So do I."

**uhh... believe it or not i'm actually fine w/ this. the thing is, in most of my stories, my 1st chpt sucks bad so i'm surprised at this... the only thing i hate is the ending lines they suck! anyway leave a review or something if u want me 2 continue otherwise i'm probably gonna delete this in a few days ok? ok bye bi~!**

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**my bunny**


	2. Chapter 2

**heyo people~ littlehan-solo22 here and ready 2 write! lol i think i'm just gonna have fun w/ this and do what i want w/ it :))**

**BohoNerdgirl: thx 4 the nice comments :)) don't know if i'll do more but i'll post this chpt up if ur still reading**

**btw i should remind u. here's a key of languages:**

hello: english

_hello: french_

**_hello: chinese (more specifically, mandarin)_**

Chapter 2

It's been a few years. George, ever since I showed him who's boss, has started obsessing about me, talking to me constantly and sitting next to me more. He stopped calling me a baguette, and even stopped calling Shorty a "chink". Whatever that is.

Over the years, Shorty has gotten taller. Way taller. I'm starting to get a little bit scared of him, but thankfully, he's still the dumb, clumsy, and adventurous friend I've known for 5 years.

Speaking of Shorty, he's busy fiddling with the lock of his suitcase, as I had secretly stuffed his Yankees hat in there and locked it, making sure to pocket the key so he couldn't get it. He resorted to his lock-picking kit.

"How long has it been?" I ask across the dorm room, picking at my fingernails. Shorty glares at me.

"If you hadn't screwed around with my kit, I would've opened this in seconds!" he complains. I still can't get used to the fact that he can now speak fluent English. Back in the days with Boss, I was the one who spoke the most.

"Psh. Well, you said that you were good with lock-picking!" I retort. "Didn't you manage to break in the treasure hall with that defected kit?"

"Well, yeah. But you screwed it up! You were always good at screwing things up!"

"Oh, shut up, you big baby. You're just saying that so you won't admit to the fact that you suck." And with that, I tug on my hat so it covers my eyes, making it clear that the conversation's over.

[...]

It's now lunchtime. Everyone gathers in the massive cafeteria hall to eat. Shorty and I got our lunch and sit at our regular table all by ourselves. As usual. We always sit by ourselves; we never got along with the others.

As we sit and eat and talk about adventures past, I see George and his band of friends strutting toward us.

"Hey, Chloe," George says coolly, a cocky smile plastered on his face. I feel the eyes of several girls on my back. Shorty snickers quietly under his breath, so quiet, in fact, that I almost don't hear him.

"Hi, George," I reply, poking at my piece of bread. He plunks his plate down at the space next to me and sits down heavily, waving off his band of worshipers. They somewhat remind me of the group of cult followers in India.

"Don't they remind you of those weird people in India?" I whisper to Shorty. "You know, the ones that made Boss drink blood and have him almost sacrifice Willie?"

He nods vigorously. "Yeah. I nearly thought Dr. Jones went kinda crazy."

"What you guys talkin' about?" George asks with a mouthful of soup, some of it dribbling off his chin. Being the nice girl I am, I wipe it off with a napkin. Instantly, the girls' eyes grow hostile. I can see it.

"_Should we tell him?_" I ask Shorty.

"_**No. Let the smart boy figure it**_** out,**" he replies, elbowing me with a wide grin on his face.

We have a joke of talking to each other in French and Mandarin whenever people walk by just to drive them insane. Good thing I taught him French. In return, he taught me Mandarin.

"Yeah, well, whatever," I say in English again, and I turn to George. "We were talking about adventures... that happened in our heads."

He tilts his head. "What?"

Shorty peers around me, smiling. "We mapped out fake adventures and wrote them down in a journal. They're all pretty fun too. We'll show you sometime." Then he turns to me. "_**Looks like we got something to do during free**_** time.**"

"_Yeah. Because of you, we gotta do more work,_" I scold him in French. He fake-winces and holds his hands up.

[...]

Now it's downtime. Shorty and I are hunched over a small leather book, scrawling in fake adventures in it when there's a light knock on the door.

"Short Round? Chloe? There's a letter for you two," I hear the voice of Headmistress McKay says in her soft voice. "From some 'Dr. Jones'."

I instantly jump up and rush to the door, quickly thank the headmistress and take the letter, and dash back to the desk.

Shorty looks up at me expectantly. "What's it say?" he asks as I unfold the letter.

"Let's see... Ah. 'Dear Chloe and Shorty,'" I start to read. Shorty peers around my shoulder. "'I hope you're both doing well in the school. Sorry if I can't visit you a lot. Right now, I'm nearly surrounded by Nazis, so I gotta be careful with this. It'd probably be best if you guys didn't reply. Sorry about that. But anyway, while I was on an expedition, I heard about this legend about the-'"

"What's he talking about?" Shorty mutters. I swat him without looking back. He pokes me on the cheek in retaliation.

"'-About the Malamute Diamond,'" I continue. "'Here are the coordinates...'" And it spouts a small list of coordinates that most likely lead to this "Malamute Diamond". "'I think you guys'll find this quite interesting. How about you look into this, and I'll write a letter sometime next year to see how you're doing? Alright, I gotta go. I think I hear something. Good luck and good adventuring!'" And the letter ends.

"Well," Shorty says after a few minutes of absorbing the information in the letter. "Maybe we should look into this 'diamond'. We haven't had any sort of excitement since 5 years ago."

"Yeah, well," I start, until Shorty cuts me off, giving me that "Seriously?" look. I know what he means. The look of adventure is burning his face off, excitement pouring off him like a waterfall. It's impossible not to accept the adventure at this point, and before I know it, I'm sucked into the plot.

"Oh, alright, fine," I mutter, patting his cheek like the baby he is.

"Sweet!" he cries, pumping his fists into the air. "Now we gotta get to work!" And he pores over the letter, lining up the coordinates on the world map that Boss gave us before he left.

But just as we got started, the door starts knocking. When I peek outside, it's only George. "Hey, Chloe, can I talk to you?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

I turn to Shorty. "_It's the dumb idiot. He says he wants to talk to me._"

It might be me, or the lighting, but his face darkens. "_**Maybe not. Who knows what he wants with you? What if he decides to drug you and do something** **weird?**_"

For some reason, I can't believe he's acting this way. He's never acted like this before in the past; why start now? "_I don't see the problem in hanging around with a dumb idiot like him,_" I retort. "_And besides, if he ever tries to do something, I'll beat him up. You should know that, of all people._"

He winces slightly. "_**Yeah, I know that. But still, I'm responsible for you. Remember, seven** **months?**_" I stare at him while smiling. He sighs. "Fine. **_But don't tell him about the diamond. Got__ it?_**" _  
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I grin at him. "Of course, Shorty." And with that, I pat his head and decide to mess around with George.

[To Be Continued...]

**...maybe. maybe continued. i'll think about this and whatever if i like this then i'll continue this even tho no 1 likes this but me! :)))**

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**my bunny**


	3. Chapter 3

**heyo people! littlehan-solo22 here and ready 2 write! guys welcome 2 the new year (it's late i know) but i didn't feel like updating till now so i'll try 2 keep up hey 2 new followers thx guys i 3 u**

Chapter 3

"So, George," I say, shutting the door behind me. "What is it you needed to talk about?"

He scratches the back of his neck. "Uh... Look, how about we walk? I'll tell you about it," and he gives me a small, shy grin.

Hmm... I see no harm in this. Besides, I can prove to Shorty that I can handle things by myself. So I shrug, give him a smile, and say, "Sure, why not."

He smiles and he starts walking down the corridor, me right next to him. "So," he starts, "you know about the upcoming Summer Gala that they always do? Well, I've been invited to one, and the thing is..." He looks around and, making sure no one's overhearing, leans closer to me. "I get to bring one person with me."

I lift an eyebrow. I'm seriously not following him. Okay, let's see... Summer Gala, one invite...

"Oh, so you're asking someone to the gala?" I say in realization, clapping my hands together. "Cool. So, who ya bringin'?"

He scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah... that's the thing. I'm..." He takes a deep breath before he looks me in the eye. "I'm asking _you_ to go with me." He grins. "It's tomorrow night. Think you can make it?"

...Ah. So that's it. I tap my leg and look down the corridor. If I run fast enough, I can make it back to the dorm. But one problem: George is still blocking me. He has a hopeful look in his eyes, like I'll suddenly jump into his arms and scream, "Yes!"

As if.

"Um..." I start, looking down at the floor. "That's sweet, George, but the thing is... I have plans."

His face immediately becomes crestfallen. "Oh, really?" He sighs, then looks at me again. "What kind of plans?"

"Well..." I knew that whatever I say next, he will be jealous. He's the type of guy that gets jealous easily. "Shorty and I were planning another exploration, and we're doing a lot of it tomorrow. So... yeah. But it's really nice of you, I swear."

"...Oh." George looks away, but I can feel a strange vibe coming off him. "Yeah, of- of course. But, you know, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me." And with that, he turns on his heel and stalks away.

But something about him makes me feel very... nervous.

[...]

When I return to the dorm, Shorty bursts out of the chair. "Why did it take you so long?" he grumbles.

"Oh, I'm sorry, young prince," I tease, collapsing on my bunk, my face buried in my pillow. My feet suddenly sink into the mattress, which lets me know the Shorty's sitting on my bed.

"Hey," he says gently, a warm hand on my back. For some reason, my skin prickles at his touch. "What's the matter? Did George say something?"

I exhale loudly, tilting my face up; I was suffocating in that pillow. "He asked me to go to the Summer Gala with him. Apparently, he's too vain to go ask someone else."

He chuckles lightly, patting my back. "Well, that explains a lot, actually." He's quiet for a while, then his hand leaves my back. "Okay, I'm gonna get back to those coordinates. You gonna help?"

I don't respond; I only grunt.

"You can lay here and sulk if you want."

"...Fine." I turn around and he offers me his hand, which I take.

[...]

It's 9:30. We have 30 minutes before curfew. Shorty had left to go use the bathroom. He hasn't returned for quite some time now. Great. Now I'm starting to worry.

I'm hunched over the map, trying to figure out the coordinates when I hear a sharp, loud, and _feminine_ scream from the corridor. There are loud voices and cries for help, but mostly the cacophony of male students chanting "Fight!" repeatedly.

It's really annoying when you hear the word "Fight!" over and over again, so I slam down the pencil and compass and open the door, stepping into the corridor.

The second I step out, I _immediately_ wish I hadn't.

A bunch of students are huddled into a tight mass of people, swarming around what I assume is the fight. Once or twice I hear a guy shout, "You got it, George! Beat the crap out of him!"

George. I knew something was weird about him.

I shake out of my small daze and run over to where the people are, looking over their shoulders. I wish I hadn't. One look, and all the blood rushes out of me.

George has Shorty in a headlock, and he's pounding him repeatedly with a tight fist. Blood is oozing out their noses, and Shorty spits out a little blood.

Most of the boys and some of the girls are cheering. Some look horrified. Others look disgusted.

My hands are trembling, and anger is boiling in my stomach. Boss always said that I had a wild temper, almost like a hurricane, and that it was a problem for me.

_"You really should work on that temper of yours," _Boss always said whenever I let my temper get the best of me, and he would ruffle my head with a smile and he would rebuke me.

I always respect Boss' advice, and I follow it whenever I can.

But right now, I really don't give a crap.

Before I know it, I push people aside and grab George's shoulders, throwing him against the wall with all my strength. It doesn't hurt him, but it does get him to look at me.

"Chloe?" he says confusedly. "What are you... Why are you...?"

"Listen here, _pal,_" I hiss, forcing as much acid in my tone as possible. "You don't mess with me, and you don't mess with my friend. You punch him again, I will make your life _hell. Got it?_"

He swallows, and nods ferociously. One of the boys wolf whistles. A few of the girls gasp.

I turn around to help Shorty, but he's already gone. Most likely back to the room. I yell for everyone to go back to their dorms, and stalk back towards mine.

The second I slam the door, however, I'm filled with a sense of dread.

_Oh, God, _I think to myself, _please don't let anything be wrong with him. _

Placing one hand on the bedroom doorknob, I take a deep breath. Lately, I've been feeling jitterish, which isn't very good when it comes to exploring. Plus side, it gives you the energy to do whatever it is that you don't want to do, so I use to my advantage, and open the door.

Shorty is lying down in his bunk, his hat covering his face. The lights are off, so that means he's either thinking, depressed, or sleeping. Sighing, I close the door and tiptoe toward my bunk when he grunts.

"Chloe," he murmurs. I don't dare speak. He's probably sleep talking again. "Sorry about what happened back there. You had to get involved."

No, he's not sleep talking. "That's fine," I mutter. "You're my friend, after all. That's what friends do."

"You don't get it." Then, he bolts up, the hat flying off his face. "Listen. I don't want you fighting. At least, don't fight my fights. I could've handled it by myself. No need to get injured over me."

"That's when you're wrong, Shorty. _You _don't get it.'' For some reason, I'm feeling pissed. Why is he getting mad when I just helped save his butt? "Why are you so _prideful?_ What's wrong with letting your friend help you out? Is there something _wrong_ with that?"

"_Yes,_" he spits out, his voice full of venom. He gets out of bed and stalks toward me, making me step backward until my back touches the wall. Then he's looming over me, making me feel short. He grabs my shoulders. "Fine. If you're gonna be _stubborn_ like that, then why don't you just-" He stops abruptly, staring at me. For a long time. Then his grip on my shoulders loosen and he collapses back into his bed.

"...Shorty?" I call quietly after a while.

"Go to sleep, Chloe," he replies. "Forget what I said. Just go to sleep. Forget it."

"But-"

"Go. To. Sleep. Now."

"...Okay."

Shorty has placed his hat back on his face, making it clear that all conversation is over. A shiver runs down my back, and I rub my shoulders, vaguely aware of the fact that they're still warm.

No, not warm.

_Burning. _

**hmm... not very intersting, but i'tll do 4 now ok guys how was this? if u like fave/follow/review and i'll think about writing more ok bye bi~!**

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